WHISPERER

The city outside lay in silence, every dorm room swallowed by sleep—except Jade’s.

Her head throbbed from the crash against the wall, each pulse sending a warm stream of blood down her cheek. She staggered upright, her hands trembling as they pressed against the mattress for balance. The room felt heavier, like the air itself had thickened with menace.

“Hello, Luke!” she called, her voice unsteady. “Are you there?”

Only silence answered.

She squinted into the gloom. The only light came from the faint scatter of stars through the window, distant and useless. A shaky sigh escaped her as she groped along the wall. Her fingers brushed metal, and with a flick—

The room blazed to life.

Relief poured through her chest as the bulbs lit everything in sharp, sterile brightness. The familiar outlines of the dorm snapped back into place: her desk, her roommate’s bed, the dresser. On the nightstand, a half-melted candle stood beside a box of matches, their quiet presence mocking the terror of moments before.

“Luke!” she yelled again, her voice breaking.

Her breath came fast, each gulp of air draining her strength instead of restoring it. The trauma rattled through her bones.

Her eyes fell on the blue jeans discarded near the foot of the bed, halfway across the thin line that divided her space from her roommate’s. She staggered toward them, dragging her feet, the images of what just happened replaying in her mind like a broken reel.

Then it grabbed her.

Hands—cold, unseen—latched onto her legs. She screamed as she was yanked downward, her knees crashing against the hard floor. Her jeans slipped from her grasp. In the brief second before the light above flickered, she saw it: red scars etched into her thighs, a grotesque map in the shape of a palm.

“What the hell?” she gasped.

Her heart pounded, her chest rising and falling too fast. She lifted her left leg, inspecting the mark. The skin was angry red, swelling slightly as if freshly burned.

“What the hell!” she cried again, voice cracking.

She pressed her fingers into it, bracing for pain. None came. Not a sting. Not even tenderness. Only silence beneath her skin.

“This is strange,” she whispered.

Her thoughts spiraled. Luke’s warning—we’re not alone—echoed in her ears. None of it made sense, but the weight of his words pressed harder now, clawing into her.

With trembling hands, she finally slid her jeans on and forced herself toward the closet. A black top lay crumpled near the door. She snatched it up and pulled it over her head, her eyes darting across the room for any trace of Luke.

Nothing.

Only a packet of unopened condoms on the desk—Luke’s last, almost mocking, evidence of being here. No shoes. No shirt. No sign he had ever existed in the room with her.

Her chest tightened. Did he run? Did he abandon me? The thought pierced her, but she shook it off violently. No. He’s in danger. He has to be.

She steadied herself at the door, fingers trembling against the knob. An icy chill seeped into her skin, crawling up her arm. Gritting her teeth, she twisted it open. The hinges moaned softly as the door creaked, the sound echoing down the corridor.

Behind her, the dorm still blazed with artificial light. Ahead—only suffocating darkness.

She drew in a long breath, puffing it out into the chill as she stepped over the threshold.

“Luke!” Her voice rang out, bouncing along the empty hall. “Luke! Where are you?!”

She stretched her hand along the wall, fingertips brushing cold plaster as she searched for a switch. A sudden whoosh of air darted past her ear. Her heart skipped, and she scrambled, fumbling faster until her hand struck plastic. She flipped it.

For a second, light chased away the shadows.

Then dread slid its fingers down her spine. The bulbs stuttered, flickered—buzzing angrily like trapped insects.

“Come on!” She smacked the switch twice, desperate. The flickering only worsened, pulsing like a heartbeat.

Another whoosh. Her body jolted.

“Luke?!” Her voice cracked, eyes narrowing into the dark. “Luke, is that you?”

Her teeth chattered uncontrollably. Goosebumps raced across her arms, her knees knocking as fear rooted her to the spot.

The footsteps came next. Slow. Steady. Echoing down the hallway.

She froze, unable to lift her legs, as if the floor had hardened around her feet.

“You don’t belong here,” a voice sneered—a woman’s, sharp and commanding. “Turn and leave.”

Jade spun, searching wildly. Nothing. Only the buzzing lights overhead.

“Who are you?” Her voice was barely a whisper, strangled by terror. “Show yourself!”

And then she saw it.

A shadow at the far end of the corridor, moving with impossible speed. It surged toward her, growing clearer with each heartbeat until she could make out its shape.

Not a shadow. A girl.

She looked no older than fifteen. Her white gown was tattered, flowing unnaturally as if pulled by water currents. Her long black hair snaked down her waist, framing a face so pale it seemed drained of life. Black ink markings streaked her skin, curling like unholy symbols. And her eyes—her eyes glowed with cruel, burning hatred.

“Bloody hell,” Jade whispered, trying to stumble back. But her feet clung to the floor, locked in place.

“Please—don’t hurt me!” Tears welled as she fought against her invisible bonds.

“You don’t belong here,” the girl hissed again, voice thick with venom. “Turn and leave!”

“I—I don’t understand,” Jade stammered, shaking her head wildly. “This is Kingston College. I’m a student here!”

The girl’s lips curled into something between pity and malice. “You don’t know where you are, do you? You are far from home. Far from your world. Far from everything you think you know.” Her voice dripped with finality. “Turn. And. Leave.”

Jade’s heart hammered. Confusion warred with terror. “Please… if you know where my boyfriend is, just tell—”

The girl’s laugh cut her off. A shrill, mischievous giggle that echoed like broken glass.

“He’s gone,” she smirked. “If you stay, you’ll share his fate.”

“What do you mean?!” Jade’s voice shook with desperation.

The girl ignored her question. Instead, she turned, her gown flowing unnaturally as she glided away. Just before vanishing into shadow, she glanced back over her shoulder.

“You don’t belong here, witch.”

The last word struck like a blade. Witch.

Jade’s mouth opened, but no sound emerged. Her throat burned, her lungs fought, but her voice had been stolen. Panic surged through her veins as she clutched at her neck, trying to scream.

Nothing.

Her worst nightmare had taken root in reality.